


Becoming

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, F/M, Possession, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter watches through her eyes as she slowly transforms into just what he wants her to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the most seriously creepy Peter I've written yet! For the TW Bingo prompt Lydia/Peter "transformation". I err on the side of caution with the archive warning of "Rape" because there's barely anything sexual here, but Peter has plans and thoughts and dark desires. Title could be seen as stolen from BtVS.

From the depths of her mind he watches her. 

In those few minutes they were physically together on the field, he saw her strength, determination, purpose.

She has changed.

Now, she is brittle. A shell.

He fills her.

There's no boyfriend anymore, no popularity. She's shunned, talked about in loud whispers.

She says she doesn't care, but he can see. He can see her even as he sees out of her eyes.

So desperately she wants back what she lost, even though her friends were shallow, her boyfriend a jerk. She wants to be queen again.

But, a part of her remembers over and over the words the boy spoke to her--that she was smart, that she didn't need anyone, that she should just be herself.

She liked him for that.

The boy sees her as well, but does he notice her slow breaking?

Not like he does, but then he's the cause, isn't he?

He whispers in her head, nightmares and dreams. The rotten, burnt truth; the young, smiling lie. The first terrifies yet holds her. The second interests yet concerns her. At the worm moon he will merge the two and emerge whole again.

There is a worry that in doing so he will shatter her mind, but he's been insane. He can help her with that. He'll be loving, tender, even when he fucks her on her hands and knees and makes her cry.

Those images he gives her both repulse and arouse her. Almost every time, she plays with herself as he fucks her in her head, morphing from corpse to man to boy and back again. At those times, she doesn't care which he is. She holds and kisses each one the same.

Sometimes he thinks he can taste her strawberry lip gloss and the sweet coffee she drinks.

Most of the time he tastes ashes, because she is burnt as well, in her own way.

Burnt, brittle, broken.

They are both, but they are both changing. He grows stronger. She grows weaker. He takes control. She surrenders it. 

Tonight she sits at her desk, scribbling math proofs on paper, checking her phone every few minutes for texts that no longer come in. Finally, she shoves the book and paper away, turns off the phone, puts her head down on her crossed arms, and he can feel her pain and confusion. Not even the Argent girl calls her very often anymore--too busy becoming grandpa's little killer, the next Kate.

Behind her, he emerges, places one strong hand--not burnt this time--on her shoulder. She shudders but doesn't try to get away. One thing she's learned is that she can't. He is always there.

"What do you want?" she asks, voice dull, no longer biting, snappy, bitchy or cold.

"Do you see yourself fading?" he asks, not answering her, his hand kneading her through thin silk. She's not wearing a bra. It would be so easy to dip his hand down the front of her camisole and pluck a nipple to hardness.

"I'm not," she denies."

He snorts and moves closer, his groin pressing against the nape of her neck, bare as she's piled her hair a top her head.

She shivers.

"You're becoming, Lydia."

"What am I becoming?"

"Something...new. Will you break completely or emerge from this as whole as I will? Do you have that strength?"

She spins the chair, pushing back to keep her face from his crotch and glares up at him. "I'm strong. I won't break. You didn't break me when you savaged me. You won't now."

But, the tears sparkling in her eyes, belie the strength of her words and he places one claw lightly beneath one eye waiting for the liquid to spill over. Her heart rate increases, her breathing grows shallow, but she doesn't cry.

The claw pierces lightly and she doesn't flinch.

"What's one more scar?" she whispers.

"I don't have that power...yet," he murmurs back, because he's not really here, not really touching her.

"And when you do?"

"I'll make you bleed. I'll make you scream. But, you'll want it, Lydia, crave it."

"I'm not your toy."

He laughs and the claw pulls down her cheek and still she doesn't flinch, though blood flows unlike her tears that remain behind now closed lids. "Oh, Lydia, yes you are. That is what you've become. But...you can become so much more."

Her eyes open and her gaze is cold but curious. "What?"

"My queen." With that final whisper, he lets himself fade, the last thing he sees is Lydia's hand going to the wound that is not real. She stares at the blood on her fingers.

It's not real.

It will be soon.

End


End file.
